


Un Premier Amour

by ellymango



Category: Ballerina | Leap! (2016)
Genre: Ballet, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Post-performance, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellymango/pseuds/ellymango
Summary: "The best kisses are the ones you wait for, my dear Odette. You should know that by now.""By now?""Oh, so this is your first kiss? I better make it count then."





	Un Premier Amour

**Author's Note:**

> Godammit it's been a while =w= I just. Really wanted to write something with their younger selves

It was over in a second.

Maybe even less than a second, now that she thought about it. They'd been in a hurry, late for their own performance, and sprinting to the stage in a fluster with their hands barely holding onto to each other as they charged through the corridors en route to the stage. It was his fault they were late. He’d wanted to show her his latest composition in private.

_“Can’t this wait till later? We’ll be late.”_  
_“It’ll only take a minute, I just want to run this by you before I work more on it.”_  
_“Alright then...”_

It had been far longer than just a minute. By the time they slipped out of the practice room, they were late enough to be effectively dragged and bundled into position, their respective mentors and tutors saving their inevitable anger and demands until post-performance. 

He’d kissed her on her cheek, before being pulled away.

Odette hadn't even the time to register it before she was facing out onto the stage, adopting her trained poise effortlessly as she waited for her cue, and it was only in that one quiet moment of contemplation did it hit her.

_Louis Mérante just kissed me.  
That was technically our first kiss._

Hardly as romantic as she'd have liked it to be, especially given how partial and fleeting it had been, as though his lips had barely even made contact with her cheek at all. But she could still feel it; his warm breath and the stiff hairs of his moustache just against her cheekbone, an unintelligible murmur in her ear before he left, and had she not had the glaring eyes of the ballet-masters on her she would have brought her hand to her cheek to touch the spot where she still felt his kiss.

It was rather romantic, when she thought about it that way. As though they were lovers at a train station, being separated by a long journey. But he was only on the other side of the stage. She could see him waiting for her across the stage, fully costumed and waiting to partner with her, cool and ever the professional. 

This was going to be an... interesting performance.  
__________________________________

"You kissed me earlier."

Louis didn't even look up from his waistcoat buttons, plucking them one by one with his head bent down to his chest. Odette counted herself lucky that she’d caught him alone in his dressing room, without his usual entourage of fawning fan-girls, male co-workers and companions, or the odd patron. Come to think of it, she was lucky to have slipped away from her quarters so easily as well. Perhaps tonight they were just lucky. Neither of them had been yelled at as much as they’d expected after all. "Oh God Odette, it was _hardly_ a kiss. I wouldn’t even call it a peck.”

She frowned, marching into the room, not caring that she left the door wide open. He’d left it open anyway. If somebody walked past and saw him changing it was his own damn fault. "Well you put your lips on my cheek. I think that counts as a kiss." 

"Does it now?" He finally looked at her over his shoulder, his expression insufferably coy and playful as he tugged off his neck scarf with an extravagant flourish. “Are you _really_ sure it counts as a kiss?”

"In my books, yes." Odette folded her arms with a harrumph. She couldn’t be assed dealing with Louis’ semantics and definitions tonight. Not when he’d taken such a large step as kissing her for the first time, in front of other people no less. And yes, it definitely _was_ a kiss, no matter what he said. It was too tender, too unheeded to have just been a common goodbye kiss.

He smirked, tongue playing on his lip. "Well, in my books, that wasn't a kiss." 

"Well what was it, then?" 

He shrugged. "Not a kiss, that's for sure. If that was a kiss, then I kiss about ten people each day."

Odette groaned. "God, you're _infuriating_ , do you know that?"

"You're not the first person to tell me that so yes."

She scowled, making him giggle. "What?"

"You get little wrinkles on your nose when you scowl like that. It's cute." 

And that made Odette immediately clap a hand over her nose. _Cute._ She was not _cute._ And neither was her nose, nor its wrinkles.

Louis finally sighed, tossing his waistcoat aside and flexing his back with a satisfying and loud click. Odette noticed how his shirt was strategically unbuttoned down to his midriff, and how it stretched over his spectacularly trained muscles as he leaned backwards. She smacked herself internally. _Don’t get distracted by him. It’s what he wants._

With a moan that was definitely far too sensual for Odette’s attempt at remaining mildly annoyed to handle, he looked at her through his heavy eyes and sighed with false exasperation. "Do you want me to show you what _I_ would classify as a kiss then?"

Odette’s eyes narrowed, lips forming their own smirk. "Yes."

"Alright then." Louis swaggered over to the door and swept it shut, and swaggered back to Odette, his loose step more reminiscent of a drunken sailor than an accomplished ballet dancer. Odette wondered where the breathless and excited young gentleman from before the performance had gone. This smug oaf _wasn’t_ the Louis she loved. 

... Did she love him? Love seemed like a very strong word to use at this time. 

Her train of thought was broken when Louis cupped her face and tilted her head up, her cheeks fitting perfectly in his warm palms. He seemed to study her, almost, as though he were looking at her face for the very first time, taking in each small detail. 

"You're taking your time." 

"The best kisses are the ones you wait for, my dear Odette." He brushed his thumb across her lips, licking his own hungrily. "You should know that by now."

The way his voice changed from flirtatious to husky and low made Odette's eyebrow lift, and she edged herself up onto her pointes so she could be closer to his own lips. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about his newly grown moustache _(“I hope to grow it into a full beard someday”)_ , though she guessed she should at least be thankful he had good enough genes so that it didn’t grow patchy. Who knew, maybe someday he’d grow to suit it. 

She raised an eyebrow. "By now?" Did he think she was a virgin kisser or something? Not that he was wrong, she was just hoping it wasn't obvious.

"Oh, so this is your first kiss?" God, there was that insufferable smirk again. "I better make it count then."

He finally lowered his head and connected his lips with hers.

Odette didn't know how to react. 

She froze for a split second, overtaken by the sudden new and delicious feeling of a kiss on her lips, how warm it felt, how rough his palms felt against her cheeks. Her eyes stayed wide open, bright with shock and pleasant surprise, before sliding closed lazily as the shock wore off and felt herself almost melting against his kiss.

He was intoxicating, really. In everything from how warm he felt to how he seemed to hungrily toy for more, trying to encourage her mouth to open just a little bit more against his, how her head fitted so comfortably in his hands, with his palms on her cheeks and fingers mussing the delicate strands of hair around her ears. Odette felt weightless as she pushed herself higher and higher onto her pointes, her hands pressed against his arms for balance, the usual aches and pains of post-performance fading into nothing as she let his kiss take over her senses. Part of her wanted to let herself fall against him, have him catch her and support her with his hands on her waist or hips. But that would mean him taking his hands off her face... 

Even though they spent pretty much every day in rehearsal, from dawn till dusk or later repeating the same steps, the same pas de deux over and over. Needless to say she wasn’t a stranger to feeling his hands on her body, or on her face. Yet... something about now felt... different. More intimate. Less calculated and scripted. They weren’t characters _pretending_ to be in love, they were...

Was this what genuine love felt like? Odette didn’t know. But it felt wonderful nonetheless. And if she did love Louis... well she wasn’t complaining.

... Did he love her, she wondered? It would be nice if he did. 

His hands finally slipped from her cheeks, brushing down the thin column of her neck and onto her exposed shoulders, his thumb tracing her collarbone before gliding down her arms and settling on her waist. The motion made her cheeks grow hotter, she could almost feel them turning red as his fingers flared and fleetingly brushed against her hips before returning to her waist again. Thank God their eyes were shut. 

Louis had been dominating this kiss since their lips had touched, having eased her mouth open ever so slightly at the start and had been trying to open it just a little more since. Though Odette wasn't opposed to a fully open mouthed kiss, oh heavens no, she’d honestly love that, but right now, after the carry on he’d put her through earlier, he could wait a little. But she had no qualms or objections to letting him lead her, letting him try and nudge her lips apart just a little more, letting his hands tease down towards her hips. She bought her own hands up to his head and burying them in his thick black curls, allowing her mouth to open fully, taking in all of his taste, the sensation he gave her. He felt perfect, really. Everything felt perfect. 

Their kiss died down in momentum, and they both felt the others lips leave theirs, leaving them still warm from the contact but cool against the changing room air. "Your cheeks are all red and flushed," Louis thumbed beneath Odette's eye as she looked up, frowning as she realised how pale his own flush was. 

"Oh stop it."

He chuckled, running his hand through his thick hair, now tangled by sweat. "Do you want to go again?"

She looked up. "Yes please."

**Author's Note:**

> I really should attempt more younger!Méradette they were REALLY fun to try writing. Mostly because Odette imh was a sassy ho and Mérante was just a suave asshole


End file.
